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Episode 499.g Bubble Guppies: Oona the Musical! (Part 7)
Plot An extraordinary little girl named Oona decides that despite a bad beginning filled with rotten parents, a terrifying school and a vicious head mistress, her story is going to be an astonishing one. With the help of her teacher, her friends and a little bit of imagination, Oona proves that even if she's little, she can do big things. Cast *Oona as (Matilda) *Mr. Shaskan as (Mr. Wormwood) *Mrs. Shaskan as (Mrs. Wormwood) *The Witch as (Miss Trunchbull) *Mrs. Grouper as (Miss Honey) *Deema as (Lavender) *The Color Monster as (Henchman) *Sandy as (Acrobat) *Ms. Duey as (Miss Phelps) *Nonny as (Nigel) *Molly as (Alice) *One of Sandy's Sisters as (Henchwoman) *Goofin as (Micheal) *Gil as (Bruce Bogtrotter) *Tobias as (Tommy) *Goby as (Eric) *Jimberly as (Amanda Thripp) *Ashlie as (Hortensia) *Cook Crab as (Cook) *Archaeologist as (Escapologist) *Mr. Grumpfish as (Rudolpho) *Mr. Grouper as (Children's Entertainer) *Ringmaster as (Sergei) *Dr. Clark as (Doctor) Information *Genres: Comedy, Fantasy, Musical *Rating: PG for some violence, a bit of curse words, and some scary scenes. *Type of film: Fantasy, Comedy, Musical Trivia *This is based on the 2011 West End musical "Matilda the Musical!" You can read about it on Wikipedia. *There are both regular and fanon characters in this story. Story Start of Part 7. (Scene: School Gym) (Mrs. Grouper enters holding a stack of books tied together.) Mrs. Grouper: Oona? I've got those books we spoke about, so you can just sit and read – (Miss Witch starts blowing her whistle, then runs toward Mrs. Grouper and Oona. She is wearing a short skirt and a jumper. Gil scurries behind her, carrying a chair and wearing his "I have been to CHOKEY" sign. Miss Witch blows the whistle in Mrs. Grouper's face.) Miss Witch: What are you doing with those books, woman? Mrs. Grouper: (tearfully) They're . . . They're for Oona! Miss Witch: No, they are not. (She grabs the books from Mrs. Grouper's hands.) Miss Witch: Not on my watch! (She shotputs the books out of the window breaking the glass.) Miss Witch: There is an age for reading and an age for being a filthy little toad! These are toads. Aren't you, Gordon? Gil: Yes, Miss Witch. Miss Witch: Yes, Miss Witch! (She takes the chair from Gil and brings it to the front corner of the gym.) Miss Witch: Only, Gordon, here, is now a good toad. (She slams the chair down.) Miss Witch: Sit! (Mrs. Grouper sits in the chair. Quietly, Oona approaches Gil to see if he is all right.) Miss Witch: It has become clear to me, Mrs. Grouper, that you have no idea what you are doing. You believe in kindness, and fluffiness, and books, and stories . . . This is not teaching! To teach the child, you must first break the child. (She blows her whistle and the children, in gym uniforms, trot in and form a line with their hands on their heads.) Miss Witch: Quiet, you maggots! Mrs. Grouper: No one was speaking, Miss Witch. Miss Witch: Mrs. Grouper, please understand that when I say "Quiet, you maggots," you are entirely included in that statement. Where is my jug of water? (Deema starts jumping up and down.) Deema: Ooh, ooh! Me, me, me, me, me! I'll get it, Miss Witch! (She runs to the front of the gym, gives two thumbs up, then runs off. Oona, in gym uniform, joins the others in line.) Miss Witch: Stupid girl. And you. (She goes down the line of children.) Miss Witch: Flabby, disgusting, revolting! Revolting, I say! It's high time you were toughened up with a little . . . phys-ed. (She blows her whistle and the children rush to arrange gym mats on the floor. Goby has a little trouble pulling his out.) Miss Witch: (singing) This school, of late, has started reeking – Jimberly: (quietly) Goby . . . Miss Witch: (to Jimberly) Quiet, maggots, when I'm speaking! (Goby throws himself flat on his mat.) Miss Witch: (singing) – reeking, with a most disturbing scent. Only the finest nostrils smell it, but I know it oh-too-well. It is the odour of rebellion. It's the bouquet of dissent! And you may bet your britches this Headmistress finds this foul odiferousness wholly olfactorally insulting. And so, to stop this stench's spread, I find a session of phys-ed sorts the merely "rank" from the "revoting". (She takes off her jumper to reveal a top with the Olympic logo emblazoned on it. She starts exercising and the children follow suit.) Miss Witch: (singing) The smell of rebellion comes out in the sweat, and phys-ed will get you sweating. And it won't be long before I smell the pong of aiding and abetting. A bit of phys-ed will tell us who has a head full of rebellious thoughts. (She stands on one leg and the children follow.) Miss Witch: Hold, hold! (Most of the children fall to the ground, but Miss Witch sees that Oona is still standing.) Miss Witch: (singing) Just like a rotten egg floats to the top of a bucket of water. (Realising what she has done, Oona slowly lowers herself onto her mat.) Miss Witch: (singing) The smell of rebellion. The stench of revolt. Children: (singing) One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The reek of insubordination. Children: (singing) I can't take it anymore. One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The whiff of resistance. The pong of dissent. The funk of mutiny in action. Oona: (singing) That's not right. Miss Witch: (singing) Before the weed becomes too big and greedy, you really need to nip it in the bud. Position two! (She takes an inhaler from Ashlie and throws it out of the window.) Miss Witch: (singing) Before the worm starts to turn, you must scrape off the dirt and rip it from the mud! The whiff of insurgence. Children: (singing) One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The stench of intent. Children: (singing) One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The reek of pre-pubescent protest. The pong of defiance. Children: (singing) One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The odour of coup. Children: (singing) One, two, three, four. Miss Witch: (singing) The waft of anarchy in progress. Goby: Please, miss, please! Miss Witch: (singing) Once we've "exercised" these demons, they shall be too pooped for scheming. (Miss Witch drags off a mat to which Goby still clings. The older kids bring in a tall ladder, a trampoline, a gymnastic platform, and a mattress.) Miss Witch: (singing) Some double-time discipline should stop the rot from setting in! (She climbs onto the ladder.) Miss Witch: All right, let's step it up. Double time. (As Miss Witch sings, each of the children jump onto the trampoline, land on the platform, and fall onto the mattress. Some miss their landing. Some are pushed, sometimes unintentionally, by their classmates.) Miss Witch: One, two, three, four. (singing) Discipline. Discipline. For children who aren't listening; For midgets who are fidgeting or whispering in history. Their chattering and chittering, their nattering and twittering is tempered with a smattering of discipline. We must begin insisting on rigidity, and discipline, persistently resisting this anarchistic mischieving. These minutes you are frittering on pandering and pitying while little 'uns like this: They just want discipline. The simpering and whimpering, the dribbling and the spittling, the "miss, I need a tissue" – It's an issue we can fix. There is no mystery to mastering the art of classroom discipline. It's discipline, discipline – Children: Discipline! Miss Witch: (singing) The smell of rebellion, the stench of revolt, the reek of pre-pubescent plotting. The whiff of resistance, the pong of dissent, the funk of moral fibre rotting . . . (Miss Witch climbs down the ladder with a flourish. She runs headlong, jumps on the trampoline, and flies over the wooden platform onto the mattress, flipping head over heels. She then takes up a position sitting on the mattress.) Miss Witch: (singing) Imagine a world with no children. Close your eyes and just dream. Imagine – come on, try it – The peace and the quiet. A burbling stream. (She stands and jumps into a sitting position on the wooden platform.) Miss Witch: (singing) Now imagine a woods with a cottage, and inside that cottage we find a dwarf called Zeek, a carnival freak who can fold paper hats with his mind. And he says, "Don't let them steal your horses. No! Don't let them throw them away. No, no, no! If you find your way through, they'll be waiting for you, singing, "Neigh! Neigh!" Goby: She's mad! Miss Witch: Aha! And there, just like I said: The stinking maggot rears his head! (singing) Even the squitiest, pitiest mess can harbour seeds of stinkiness. Have you ever seen anything more repellent? Have you ever smelled anything worse than that smell of rebellion? (Miss Witch takes up a lounging position on the wooden platform. It is slowly pulled across the gym as she languorously brings her leg up and down. The children stand in front of it and make rowing motions with their arms as it makes its way across the gym. The next two verses overlap.) Miss Witch: (singing) The stench of revolt. The reek of insubordination. The whiff of resistance. The pong of dissent. Children: (singing) Discipline. Discipline. No more whispering. Children need discipline. Cut out that whispering. If you're mischiefing, she'll sniff you out. Without a doubt, she's a snout in a million. Discipline. Discipline. No more whispering. Children need discipline. Cut out that whispering. Miss Witch: (singing) And I will not stop till you are squashed; Till this rebellion is quashed; Till glorious, sweaty discipline has washed this sickening stench – away! (She grabs the end of a net that is pulled back across the gym with the wooden block as she stands on top of it. Upon the net is the word "DISCIPLINE". Deema runs with a jug of water, a cup, and a wriggling newt.) Deema: Look! The newt! Can you see? It's the newt! I've got the newt! I'm going to – Miss Witch: Quiet! (Deema drops the newt into the water.) Mrs. Grouper: I don't think this is "teaching" at all. I think it's just cruelty. (Miss Witch takes the jug and cup from Deema.) Miss Witch: That is because you, Mrs. Grouper, are pathetic. (She takes a drink of water.) Miss Witch: You are wet. You are weak. (She takes another drink.) Miss Witch: You are, in fact, a snivelling little – (There is the sound of something dropping into her glass.) Miss Witch: – newt. Newt! (Miss Witch puts the cup and jug down on the platform and scurries away from it. The children, except for Goby, gather around, chatting excitedly.) Miss Witch: Newt! There's a newt inside my – Mrs. Grouper: Quiet, children, please! Quiet! Miss Witch: (to Goby) You! Goby: No, not me! What? No! I didn't! Miss Witch: You did this, you vile, repulsive, malicious little sinner! (She takes Goby by one ear and drags him to one side.) Goby: Stop! Stop! Miss Witch: "Stop"? "Stop"? We were just getting started! Mrs. Grouper: No, Miss Witch, don't, please. You'll pull his ear off! Miss Witch: I have discovered, Mrs. Grouper, through many years of experimentation, that the ears of small boys do not come off. They stretch. In fact, I think I can feel these ones stretching even now. (Miss Witch grabs both of Goby's ears and stretch them out several inches to the side.) Goby: Ow! Ow! Mrs. Grouper: No, Miss Witch, no! Oona: Leave him alone! You big, fat, bully! Miss Witch: How dare you. You are not fit to be at this school. You ought to be in prison! In the deepest, dankest, darkest prison! I shall have you wheeled out, strapped to a trolley with a muzzle over your mouth! (Miss Witch starts to rant and scream at the children, lumbering all over the gym. Oona stands near the front of the gym, looking anguished.) Miss Witch: I shall crush you. I shall pound you. I shall dissect you, madam! I shall strap you to a table and perform experiments on you! All of these disgusting little slugs shall suffer the most appalling indignities because of you. Yes, you! I shall feed you to the termites. And then I shall smash the termites into tiny fragments . . . (Miss Witch's words fade into the background, though she continues to rail in silence at the children and Mrs. Grouper, who cower at the back of the gym. Oona stands on one block of the gym, which slowly rises.) Oona: (singing) Have you ever wondered (well, I have) About how when I say, say, "red" (for example) There's no way of knowing if red means the same thing in your head as red means in my head when someone says "red". And how, if we are travelling at almost the speed of light, and we're holding a light, that light would still travel away from us at the full speed of light. Which seems right, in a way, But I'm trying to say – I'm not sure, but I wonder if inside my head, I'm not just a bit different from some of my friends. These answers that come into my mind, unbidden; These stories delivered to me fully-written. And when everyone shouts (like they seem to like shouting) The noise in my head is incredibly loud. And I just wish they'd stop, my dad and my mum, and the telly, and stories would stop for just once. And I'm sorry, but I'm not quite explaining it right. But this noise becomes anger, and the anger is light. And this burning inside me would usually fade, but it isn't today. And the heat and the shouting – And my heart is pounding – And my eyes are burning – And suddenly, everything, everything is – Quiet. Like silence, but not really silent. Just that still sort of quiet. Like the sound of a page being turned in a book. Or a pause in a walk in the woods. Quiet. Like silence, but not really silent. Just that nice kind of quiet. Like the sound when you lie upside-down in your bed. Just the sound of your heart in your head. And though the people around me – Their mouths are still moving – The words they are forming cannot reach me anymore. And it is quiet. And I am warm. Like I've sailed – Into the eye of the storm. (From across the gym, Oona focuses her attention on the cup of water that Miss Witch is standing near.) Oona: Tip! Go on, tip! Tip over! Tip over! (The cup tips over toward Miss Witch. As she turns around, we can see that there is a newt on the back of her leg.) Miss Witch: – miserable collection of excuses for children, and you, madam, standing there like the squit of squits, are its beating heart! But I am a match for you. And I tell you, there is nothing I shall not do, no length to which I shall not go, no punishment I shall not inflict, no ear I shall not . . . stretch . . . (She trails off.) Miss Witch: What is it? What is it? There's something on me. Get it off me! Get it off me! It's heading north! (She pauses in horror.) Miss Witch: I've got a newt in my knickers! I've got a newt in my knickers! (She runs out of the gym. There is a pause.) Mrs. Grouper: Well. That was interesting. I think we all better go home while we still can. (The children cheer and run off.) Mrs. Grouper: Oona? Oona: Watch. Mrs. Grouper: Oona, I really think it would be wise – Oona: Watch. Please. (Oona sets up the cup again and focuses her attention on it. It sways from side to side and then tips over.) Oona: I moved it with my eyes. Am I strange? Mrs. Grouper: I think . . . I think . . . How do you fancy a nice cup of tea? (Mrs. Grouper puts Oona's school blazer back on her and buttons it.) (Scene: Forest) (Oona and Mrs. Grouper walk in the forest.) Oona: What do you think it is? This thing with my eyes. Mrs. Grouper: Well, I'm not going to pretend I know what it is, Oona. But I don't believe it's something you should be frightened of. I think it's something to do with that incredible mind of yours. Oona: You mean, there's no room in my head for all of my brains, so they have to squish out through my eyes. Mrs. Grouper: Well, not exactly, but, er . . . Something like that. You certainly are a special girl, Oona. I . . . I met your mother. She's . . . unusual. What about your father? Is he . . . Is he proud to have a daughter as clever as you? Oona: Oh, yeah. He's very proud. He's very, very, very proud. He's always saying, "Oona, I'm so proud to have a daughter as – " (She pauses and looks at Mrs. Grouper.) Oona: That's not true, Mrs. Grouper. That's not what he says. He's not proud at all. He calls me a liar, and a cheat, and a nasty little creep. Mrs. Grouper: I see. (Oona and Mrs. Grouper come to a house and walk in.) (Scene: Interior of Mrs. Grouper's House) Mrs. Grouper: Here we are. Home sweet home. (Oona looks around.) Oona: Are you poor? Mrs. Grouper: Er, yes. Yes, I am. Very! Oona: Don't they pay teachers very well? Mrs. Grouper: No, they don't, actually, but, er, I'm even poorer than most, because of, er, other reasons. You see, I . . . I used to live with my aunt. But one day I was out walking, and I . . . I came across this old shed. I fell completely in love with it. I ran to the farmer and begged him to let me move in. He thought I was mad. But he agreed, and I've lived here ever since. Oona: But Mrs. Grouper, you can't live in a shed! Mrs. Grouper: I'm not strong like you, Oona. You see, my father died when I was young. Magnus was his name. He was very kind. But, er, when he was gone, my aunt became my legal guardian. She was mean and cruel and horrible like you can hardly imagine. And when I got my job as a teacher, she suddenly presented me with a bill for looking after me all those years. She had written everything down: Every tea bag, every electricity bill, every tin of beans. And she made me sign a contract to pay her back every penny. She . . . She even produced a document to say that my father had given her his entire house. Oona: Did he really do that? Magnus. Did he really just give her his house? Mrs. Grouper: I don't know. But I find it hard to believe. Just like I cannot believe that he would have . . . that he would have killed himself. Which is what she said happened. (Oona gasps.) Oona: You think . . . You think she did him in! Don't you, Mrs. Grouper? Mrs. Grouper: I cannot say. All I know is that years of being bullied by that woman made me . . . pathetic! I was trapped. Oona: And that's why you live here. Mrs. Grouper: (singing) This roof keeps me dry when the rain falls. This door helps to keep the cold at bay. On this floor I can stand on my own two feet. On this chair I can write my lessons. On this pillow I can dream my nights away. And this table, as you can see, well, it's perfect for tea. It isn't much, but it is enough for me. It isn't much, but it is enough – Oona: But Mrs. Grouper, she's got your father's house! She's got everything that's yours. (She moves to sit on the same stool as Mrs. Grouper.) Mrs. Grouper: (singing) On these walls, I hang wonderful pictures. Through this window, I can watch the seasons change. By this lamp, I can read! And I . . . I am set free. (For the first time, Oona gives a small smile.) Mrs. Grouper: (singing) And when it's cold outside, I feel no fear. Even in the winter storms, I am warmed by a small but stubborn fire. And there is nowhere I would rather be. It isn't much, but it is enough for me. For this is my house. This is my house. It isn't much, but it is enough for me. (Mrs. Grouper opens a drawer and takes out a shiny, white scarf. Slowly, the archaeologist's spirit walks toward Mrs. Grouper.) Mrs. Grouper: (singing) This is my house. This is my house. It isn't much, but it is enough – (Mrs. Grouper wraps the scarf around Oona's shoulders.) Archaeologist: (singing) Don't cry – Mrs. Grouper: (singing) And when it's cold and bleak, I feel no fear. Archaeologist: (singing) Please don't cry. I'm here. Mrs. Grouper: (singing) Even in the fiercest storms, I am warmed – Archaeologist: (singing) Please don't cry. Mrs. Grouper: (singing) By a small but stubborn fire. Archaeologist: (singing) Let me wipe away your tears. Forgive me – Mrs. Grouper: (singing) Even when outside, it's freezing – Archaeologist: (singing) I didn't mean to desert you. Mrs. Grouper: (singing) I don't pay much heed. Archaeologist: (singing) I know that I hurt you. Mrs. Grouper: (singing) I know that everything I need is in here. (The archaeologist approaches Mrs. Grouper from behind and places a hand on her shoulder.) Mrs. Grouper: (singing) It isn't much, but it is enough for me. It isn't much, but it is enough for me. (The archaeologist's spirit slowly fades away. Oona looks down at the scarf she is wearing.) Oona: Mrs. Grouper, is this your father's scarf? Mrs. Grouper: Yes. Yes, it is. My mother gave it to him before she died. You see, her name was – Oona: Sandy. Mrs. Grouper: Yes. Yes, it was. And my father was – Oona: An archaeologist. Mrs. Grouper: Oona, how did you know that? Oona: So . . . So they were your parents! Mrs. Grouper: What? Who? Oona: The people in my story! Mrs. Grouper: What story? Oona: A story! I've been telling a story, and I thought I was making it up, but it's real! It's your life! I've seen your life. Mrs. Grouper: You've seen my life? Oona: She did him in! Let's go to the police! (She grabs Mrs. Grouper's hands and tries to drag her away.) Mrs. Grouper: No! No, we can't! We've no evidence! Oona: We can just tell them! Tell them she did it! Mrs. Grouper: It won't work, Oona! It would me my word against hers! They'd never believe she was capable of murder! (She wrenches her hands free from Oona's.) Oona: But why? She was so cruel to you! She beat you! (Mrs. Grouper covers her ears with her hands.) Oona: She shouted at you! She locked you up in tiny cupboards and threw you into cellars! Miss Witch: Stop, Oona. Please. Oona: Mrs. Grouper, your aunt's a murderer. She killed Magnus. WHO IS SHE? Miss Witch's Voice: A contract is a contract is a contract! Oona: Miss . . . Miss Witch. End of Part 7. Recap The next day, Miss Witch forces Mrs. Grouper's class to undergo a gruelling physical education lesson. Miss Witch discovers the newt in her jug; she accuses the first child she sees and starts to punish him. Oona scolds Miss Witch for being a bully. Miss Witch verbally abuses Oona, but Oona discovers she can move objects with her mind. She tips over the water jug and the newt lands in Miss Witch's knickers. Oona demonstrates her powers to Mrs. Grouper, who is surprised and invites Oona to her house for tea. Oona admits that her father is not proud of her and calls her names. Mrs. Grouper's cruel and abusive aunt, who looked after her as a child after her parents died, forces her to live in an old farm shed in abject poverty. When Mrs. Grouper first became a teacher, her aunt produced a bill detailing everything Mrs. Grouper consumed as a child, along with other expenses, and forced her to sign a contract binding her to pay it all back. Despite this, Mrs. Grouper finds beauty in her meagre living conditions. As Mrs. Grouper tells her story, she produces a scarf which Oona recognises from her story of Sandy and the archaeologist — which she realises is the true story of Mrs. Grouper's childhood, and that her wicked aunt is Miss Witch. Category:Stories